The Pox
by muchbeddled
Summary: A deadly disease strikes the happy village of Locksley. Set post season, with Robin and Marian married and parents to 3 lively children.
1. Chapter 1

Refreshed from a good night's sleep, Robin of Locksley awoke to the comforting sounds of his village and household staff awakening to begin their daily chores. A soft spring breeze wafted through the open window, and the smell of freshly baked bread competed with the soft rose petal scent clinging to his sleeping wife's luxuriant dark hair.

With one hand, Robin scooped up Marian's grey cat Moonlight from its spot between them, placing it at the foot of the bed.

"Nobody gets between me and my wife," he said, grinning.

The cat spat, then settled down near Marian's feet. He was supposed to belong to six-year-old Grace, but, like everyone else in Locksley Manor, he adored Marian, and claimed her as his mistress.

At the sound of her husband's voice, Marian stirred in her sleep, then slowly blinked open her eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Robin apologized, encircling her in his arms and nestling against her back.

"It's alright. What time is it?"

"I don't know. Sometime before Prime, I think."

Lifting her hair, he began placing kisses along her jawline, cheek, neck, and shoulders. Marian closed her eyes and purred like her cat, then snapped her eyes open and froze in surprise.

"Listen!" she ordered.

Robin leaped from the bed, hurriedly jumping into his trousers and snatching up his shirt when he heard his younger daughter's voice call down from the roof from outside their window.

"Hold on tight, Edward, and don't let go!" Grace was calling.

Robin, with Marian right behind him, dashed to the window and looked out to see their four-year-old son, Edward, standing below in the yard, holding onto the end of a rope. A long ladder stood propped against the side of the house.

Since Edward was looking up, he spied his parents at the window, and called up to them, "Hello, Mama...Daddy! Gracie's gonna try to fly!"

"Robin, stop her!" Marian almost screamed.

Without a word, Robin dashed from his room, down the stairs, and out into the yard of his house. Marian followed, her nightdress's long skirts swishing about her ankles.

Robin was already half way up the ladder when Marian caught sight of Grace, holding her father's unstrung bow, standing proudly on the edge of the roof. The six-year-old, still dressed in her white fluttering nightdress, sported a pair of trousers underneath her gown and an excited grin on her chubby cheeked face.

"Good morning, Daddy!" she announced. "It's a lovely morning to fly, don't you think?"

"So lovely, I think I'd like to fly myself! Mind if I join you?"

Marian, from the ground, couldn't believe her ears. "Get her down, Robin!" she called up to him. "Don't encourage her!"

Both she and Robin guessed what Grace had been planning to attempt. Her eyes always shone whenever Uncle Much would tell how Robin had escaped the evil Sheriff of Nottingham by "flying" to the ground, grasping his bow as it slid upon a rope held by Little John.

"I'll get her down," Robin answered back, having reached the roof himself now, "as soon as you secure that rope to something far sturdier than our son!"

Their oldest child had now joined her mother in the yard. Ellen, small for her age, looked younger than her eight years. "Be careful, Daddy!" she shouted up to him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Marian snapped. "Put her on your back, and climb down the ladder!"

"She'll be every bit as safe on my back sliding down that rope, as she would be if I use the ladder. Safer even. It'll be much quicker, Marian."

"Please, Mama?" Grace begged. "I'll hold on tight! I promise!"

By this time, the yard was filled with curious villagers, many making the sign of the cross, fearful for their beloved master and his daredevil daughter, atop the high, steep roof. Marian glanced quickly through the crowd, her face lighting up when she spied Little John's large form lumbering towards her.

"Give me," John commanded, and Marian obeyed without question, handing him the end of the rope.

As he had done years before, John wrapped the rope around him, then signalled to Robin with a nod of his head.

"Ready, Gracie?" Robin asked, his eyes shining as brightly as his daughter's.

Clinging tightly to her father's back, Grace chanted, "Ready!"

First checking to make certain the rope was securely fastened on the rooftop, Robin positioned his bow above his head, then pushed off, to begin sailing quickly to the ground. Grace shut her eyes, but wore a huge smile all the way down.

Marian held her breath, only releasing it when she saw her small son jumping up and down with excitement, shouting out, "My turn next, Daddy!"

"John?" Robin invited, cockily planting a quick kiss on Marian's cheek while handing her their rescued daughter. "What do you say? Are you up for another flight?"

Another exciting day in Locksley had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting at the head of the breakfast table later that morning, Robin gazed lovingly at his merry family seated around him. He shook his head no when Mary, longtime Locksley servant, tried to pile second helpings of eggs and bacon onto his plate. But the older woman ignored him, piling high his plate, for she still saw the slightly built blue eyed boy in the strong, muscular, handsome man at last occupying his lawful place as Lord of Locksley and Earl of Huntington.

Robin dutifully ate what Mary had dished out, knowing he'd need the added nourishment today.

"What are your plans today, my lord husband?" Marian asked, the twinkle in her eye sending a rush, more warming than wine, through Robin.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours, my lady wife," Robin teased cheekily back at her.

Marian immediately rolled her eyes, but Robin spotted the flash of a smile on her lips.

Recovering her outward placid composure, Marian coolly invited, "Go on, then."

Washing down his breakfast with a sip of ale, Robin proudly said, "Make certain there's a warm bath waiting for me when I get home. I'm off to plough and plant, alongside our serfs." Dropping his cocky demeanor, he explained, "Benedict's ailing, his wife told me, so I volunteered to do his share of the work today."

Marian gave him an admiring, appreciative smile. "That's kind. I'll visit their cottage, and see if there's anything else they need."

"Daddy, are you a farmer?" Ellen asked.

"When I have to be," he answered, grinning. "And a miller. And a baker. And even a butcher, now and again! Whatever it takes, Boo, to keep Locksley working."

"I'm too big to be called 'Boo,' Daddy," Ellen told him.

"That's alright, darling," Marian coaxed. "He still calls me 'Wren.' "

Realizing how late he was, Robin excused himself from the table, jumped up, and placed quick kisses on every cheek, and another slightly longer one on Marian's lips.

"I better run," he said. "No more flying, Grace, without me. Understood?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Edward, you're the man of the house today. Take care of your mother and sisters for me."

Edward's proud grin matched his father's. Marian marvelled how alike in appearance he was to Robin, growing more and more like him every day. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"The bonniest children in all England," she thought happily. "And I, the happiest of women."

...

When Marian entered Benedict's cottage with a basket containing broth and various medicines, she realized at once that this was no mild sickness. Turning quickly, she shooed her three children back from the door, telling them to run away and play. It wouldn't do to expose them to infection.

The children didn't mind. All three headed straight for Locksley pond, a favorite place to play.

"Look," Grace told her sister and brother, staring at a goose gliding across the top of the pond. "There's that nasty gander again!"

"What's so bad about him, Gracie?" Ellen asked.

"He bites! And honks. What I wouldn't give to teach him a lesson!"

"Stay away from him, Grace," her big sister counselled. "He's just an animal. He can't help it, if he's mean. Who'd he ever bite, anyway?"

"He almost bit Edward, didn't he?"

Edward, blue eyes full of earnest emotion, gravely nodded his head.

Ellen didn't like hearing that. She glared daggers at the gander.

"Well, be sure to stay far away from him," she ordered. "Look! He's getting out. Just keep your eye on him, Gracie, and move, if he heads your way."

"Where are you going?" Edward asked.

"I'm off to practice shooting," she boasted, gripping her child sized bow. So saying, she turned and ran away, her quiver bouncing up and down as she darted away.

"Should we go home and get our boats?" Edward asked Grace. "We can race them."

"No," Grace answered thoughtfully. "I have a better idea. It's time we taught that bad goose a lesson. Time for him to get his come uppance!"

Edward's eyes lit up with the prospect of adventure. "What'll we do?" he asked, eagerly.

Grace didn't take her eyes off the goose's grey striped tailfeathers. "If we sneak up behind him," she told her little brother, "we can grab a fistful of tailfeathers to give to Daddy, for his arrows! You know how he always has greylag goose feather fletching on his arrows."

Edward thought Grace's plan was wonderful. Holding a finger to his lips, he began tiptoeing toward the goose.

Grace was right behind him. The nearer they got, the larger the goose seemed to grow, until they noticed with a sense of fear, that it was every bit as big as Edward.

But they remained undaunted, brave children of legendary parents. Just when they drew almost close enough to pull its feathers from its tail, the bird turned on them with a furious flush of wings.

Edward, in his surprise, slipped and fell in the mud. The gander was on him immediately, biting his face, arms and neck. Grace shouted out angrily, "You get off my little brother, you wicked, bad goose!" Jumping onto its back, she began pummeling it with her fists.

She received numerous bites as well, but the goose mostly attacked the small boy lying helpless in the mud.

Grace's face was streaked with angry tears, and Edward was crying too, but they stopped crying when they heard the sound of their sister's voice call out, "Step away, Gracie! I can shoot it with my bow!"

Grace jumped off the goose's back and held her breath. She watched as an arrow sailed from her sister's bow, striking the goose in its back, right between its wings. The goose stopped honking, and dropped face down to the ground, then lay motionless at Edward's side.

All three children were shaking. Edward was bleeding. "Come on, Grace," Ellen said bravely. "We need to take him to Mama."

"Can you walk?" she asked her brother, crying now because her beloved little brother was hurt and frightened.

Edward nodded his head and rose on shakey legs. "I want Mama!" he cried.

"We'll take you to her," Ellen said, grabbing his small hand. Noticing how woebegone and bedraggled Grace looked, she took her by the hand as well, and led both of them toward Benedict's cottage.

"It's alright, Gracie," she said, comfortingly. "It was the goose's fault, not yours."

Grace wasn't so sure. "But I made him get close to it!" she wailed.

Ellen wasn't sure what to say. She was shaking herself, needing comfort as well, mostly worried about her younger siblings, but also feeling overwhelmed at having actually taken a life, even if it was just a terribly mean old bird's.

All three children wanted their mother now, their beautiful sweet smelling mother, to hold them and make everything better.

Arriving at Benedict's cottage, they knocked and pushed open the door, then ran inside.

Marian, seated by Benedict's bedside, opened her mouth when she saw them, crying, "No!"

But it was too late. They were already inside, breathing the putrid air of sickness.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin returned home at dusk, drenched in sweat and bone weary from his long day in the fields ploughing earth and planting grain. Still, he felt a sense of satisfaction for having helped his people, and had enjoyed their appreciation, affection, respect, as well as their company.

Lying back now, soaking in a warm tub, he hoped Marian might pop in for a few moments alone, before the two of them were surrounded by the rest of the household. He felt certain he could convince her there'd be room for two in the tub! In fact, it was the sole reason he lingered here longer than he liked. But she didn't come, and he wondered why, missing her.

Come to think of it, the house was strangely quiet, he noticed, toweling off. Usually at this time of day, the children would be rollicking up and down the stairs, in and out the door, expending their last waning bit of energy before sitting down to supper, more like playful puppies than sedate little nobles.

Robin thrived on their joy, their energy, their noise, and their unconditional love. He adored having children underfoot, cherishing each of them in equal, overflowing measure. He'd be happy with a dozen more, but for some reason, Marian hadn't had any more pregnancies after giving birth to Edward. It made him question whether a certain witch's curse cast upon him a few years back might have an inch of truth behind it, after all. That, or more likely, the noxious brew she'd forced down his throat, provided to her by that Witch of all Evil Witches, Isabella of Gisbourne.

But it didn't matter. He was more than grateful for the three bright and healthy children he and Marian had made together, with God's help.

A quick knock on the door preceeded Marian's entrance into the room. Robin's entire face lit up in his boyishly handsome grin.

"You're late," he teased. "If you'd only come sooner, I might have let you scrub my back."

"Please don't joke," she said sadly. "Not tonight."

"Marian, what's wrong?"

She sighed against his heart. It always felt so wonderful to be in his arms.

"Edward got bitten by a goose today."

"A goose!"

"Will you let me finish? Grace was bitten, too, and blames herself. Ellen's being unusually quiet and withdrawn, even though I assured her her brother and sister will be alright."

"You've had quite a day! I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you."

"You were busy, and I'm glad, and proud of you. It happened while I was visiting Benedict. He's not well, Robin. I fear he's deathly ill."

"What does Djaq say?"

"You know Djaq. She didn't say anything, just looked grave, and set to work, administering medicine."

"Well, he's in good hands. And you were an angel, my love, to go see him." He kissed her gently on the mouth, bringing back the smile to her lips. "Now," he said, leading her to the door with his arm around her waist, "I'd like to take a look at those goose bites, and see what I can do to cheer things up around here. It's entirely too quiet for my liking."

"I could invite Much to come sing," Marian offered, slyly.

Robin tweaked her nose, chuckling under his breath. "I think I've undervalued quiet," he joked. Hearing happy childish squeals and laughter coming from Edward's room, he said, "No! Noise is definitely better."

...

Satisifed that Marian was cheered, and Grace and Edward none the worse from goose bites, Robin went in search of Ellen. He knew his eldest child to be tender hearted, which probably accounted for her unhappy mood. He found her alone outdoors, sitting under a tree.

Sitting on the ground beside her, he opened with, "I heard you saved your brother and sister today. Your mother was a bit annoyed with me when I wanted to know how many arrows you shot. Just one! That's impressive! You did well, Ellen."

He'd managed to say the right thing. Ellen opened up, dissolving into tears, and climbing onto his lap to be comforted.

"Oh, Daddy, I killed it! It was horrible! Part of me's glad I did it, 'cause it was hurting Edward and Gracie, but part of me's sad! The goose is dead, and I did it!"

Robin held her close, gently stroking her hair while calming her. His heart went out to his little girl, knowing how hard it was to take a life.

"I know just how you're feeling, Boo, believe me. It's hard, I know, and I'm glad you care so much. It shows you have a heart! Never, never be ashamed of that."

"But the goose, Daddy!"

"You saved your little brother and sister, and who knows how many other children in Locksley. And do you know what? That goose is going a long way right now to feed several very grateful families, who might have otherwise gone to bed hungry tonight."

"They wouldn't go hungry, Daddy," she told him, beginning to feel much better. "You wouldn't let them!"

"You're right, I wouldn't! But you helped me out today, providing meat before I got the chance. Like I said, you did well. Now, let's dry those tears and go wash up for supper."

"We're not having goose, Daddy, are we?"

He smiled lovingly down at her. "No, Ellie. We're not having goose."


	4. Chapter 4

After supper, Robin and his family enjoyed a walk through their village, spending time visiting with each of their villagers, who always delighted in their lord and lady's genuine attention and concern.

Edward sat high atop his father's shoulders, boasting he was now "as big as Little John!"

His vivid blue eyes widened in alarm when John himself came striding toward him, brandishing his staff, pretending to be angry.

"Who's the biggest?" John roared, and Robin grinned, even though his son began clutching him so tightly it hurt.

"Don't worry, son," Robin whispered up to him. "I've got this." Looking John straight in the eye, he challenged, "It's time for you to forfeit your claim as Giant of Sherwood. My son, Edward of Locksley, is clearly taller."

"My husband's right," Marian agreed, playing along. "Give up and go home. Edward towers over you."

"No!" Little John roared, then made all the village children laugh by pretending to cry.

"Alright, alright," he wept, pathetically. "I'm just a mouse compared to him!"

Edward alone didn't know John was only feigning his grief. "Put me down, Daddy," he said. "I don't want to make him sad."

"Good lad." Lifting him up and over his head, Robin set his small son back down on the ground. Edward ran to Little John, who was now pretending to noisily blow his nose, sending the village children, and most of the adults, into uproarious laughter.

"Don't cry," the four-year-old begged, pulling on John's sleeve. "You're the biggest."

Instantly, John stopped his blubbering, and lifted a bright, smiling face to the crowd. Robin couldn't hold back his laughter, as he gave Marian's hand a loving squeeze.

"I'm the biggest?" John cried, seemingly amazed. "Well then, Mite, just for that...!"

With a mighty sweep of his arms, he grabbed the gasping boy and set him high atop his own broad shoulders. "There!" he called, for all to hear. "How's the view from up there?"

"Blow the clouds out of your eyes, Son!" Robin joked. "Watch out for that eagle!"

"Daddy, let's roll down the hill!" Grace suggested.

"You roll, I'll watch," Robin told her. "I've got a few more people to see first."

"Alright, Daddy. Mama, watch how fast I am!"

Grace took off running up the hill. When she reached the top she called down, "Now I'm the biggest!"

Little John pretended once again to cry, and even Edward knew to laugh that time.

...

Robin had stepped inside Benedict's cottage to visit the ill man, to see whether he could do anything at all for him. When he emerged, his face was grim.

"It's time the children were in bed," Marian told him, her voice gentle.

He shook off his somber mood, kissing her. "Alright! Baths, prayers, stories, and then, Lady Locksley, after such a trying day, I think you and I deserve a treat!"

"I'm intrigued," Marian said, wearing one of her lovely smiles. "What are you planning?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Robin told her, adorably cocky.

...

Robin's surprise was exactly what Marian needed, after a day filled with sickness, goosebites, and her children's tears.

Robin had ordered two horses saddled, and now that the children were safely tucked into bed, they raced them in the moonlight, reining them once they reached an open, flower strewn meadow.

Leaping to the ground, Marian turned to her husband, sighing, "This is lovely!"

Robin removed his cape, spread it upon the ground, plopped down, then pulled Marian down beside him, kissing her with a long, slow, deeply romantic kiss.

Marian laid her delightfully spinning head against his shoulder, and stared up into the star filled sky, sighing. Robin's left arm encircled her, but he reached with his right and pulled forth a wineskin.

"Wine?" he offered.

"Robin of Locksley! What is this? Horses, moonlight, flowers, and now wine? Don't tell me you're trying to seduce me!"

"You're onto my scheme, Marian," he teased, his voice wickedly intimate. "But, no. I am, as ever, an honorable knight. I'm only trying to win you for my own. It's not easy, competing with the cat and your son. I haven't got the cute factor in my favor, so I thought maybe alcohol might put me a few paces ahead."

"You're still plenty cute, without the alcohol, you know."

"Yes?"

She rolled on her side to face him, and spoke to him between warm kisses she planted over his face. "I think so. Even if you can't purr or tell me I'm your princess, with sweet innocence."

Marian was referring to what Edward had said to her earlier that evening, after Robin had finished telling the children their bedtime story. "Mama, you're my princess," her son had said, and Marian knew she'd treasure that moment for the rest of her life.

"Silver tongued lad!" Robin smiled. "And if you keep kissing me like this, I think you'll hear me purr."


	5. Chapter 5

Moonlight the cat was not having a good day.

First, even before the sun was up, he'd had to leap to the floor from his cozy spot curled up against his mistress on the bed, and wait and wait and wait, while those two engaged in yet another round of their amorous bedsport. Would they never settle down and grow tired of each other?

And now, even worse, he found himself humiliatingly dressed in a baby gown and bonnet, and was being lugged about by the one called Grace, the one he was supposed to belong to. The one who used to find it so interesting to watch his reaction, when she'd ruffle his fur the wrong way.

"Come on, Edward," Grace was saying. "It'll be fun!"

"Alright, I'll go begging with you."

"Good! Ellen's got to work with her tutor, and Mama's visiting the sick, and Daddy's helping finish the planting, so we need to be busy, too! If we wear our worstest clothes and get all dirty, we can go begging from all the old people, and they'll give us treats to eat."

"We could just ask Cook for treats," Edward suggested.

"We could," Grace said thoughtfully. She finished her thought by borrowing one of their father's favorite sayings. "But where would be the fun in that?"

...

Old Bertha the widow rose from her seat by her window and shuffled to her door, chuckling. She'd been watching the Lord and Lady's two youngest with amusement, while they took turns holding their poor, put upon cat, as they dirtied themselves with mud from Locksley Pond. And now, they had marched straight to her door and knocked! A visit from such delightful, original bairns was just what she needed today, for she was feeling decidedly under the weather.

"Alms, alms," the wee girl said, as soon as Bertha pulled open her door.

"Arms, arms," said the wee pretty laddie, not knowing he was getting his lines wrong.

"Well," Old Bertha cried, "it's not everyday I welcome beggars to my humble cottage! Why don't you go to the Manor? Haven't you heard, Robin Hood and Maid Marian live there, and they never turn good, honest beggars away?"

"They're not home," Grace said, struggling to maintain her hold on the cat. "Daddy's planting...I mean, Robin Hood's planting, and Maid Marian's visiting the sick. Please, can you give us something to eat? Our baby here would like a saucer of milk, but we'll take cakes or tarts, if you have them."

"Please." Edward remembered his manners.

Old Bertha chuckled again. "Bless you, children, there's no cake in this house, except when your father or mother bring it, which is more oft than I deserve. But, you may have some bread and butter, if you like."

For a moment, Grace looked lost in thought. "Wait here," she whispered to her brother, passing him their cat. "I'll go bring her some of our cake from home."

Edward nodded, and told the withered old woman, "She'll be right back."

"Well then, lad, won't you sit awhile with me, and share what I have?"

Edward happily obliged, taking turns drinking milk from the same cup, and brightening the old woman's day with his sunny smile.

In no time at all, Grace returned with cake, which she proudly offered to Old Bertha. "This is for you," she said, having secretly stolen it from her own household larder. "It was supposed to be for our supper, but we want you to have it."

"Bless you, child! You two are a chip off the old block, and no mistake! I was feeling weak and weary before you came, but I'm feeling better now!"

After each of the children endured an unpleasant kiss, Grace mentioned, "Well, we'd better be on our way. We have more begging to do."

"You won't find many women home today," Old Bertha told her.

"Where are they? It's not Nottingham Goose Fair, is it?" Edward asked.

"No, laddie, that's not till autumn. No. Most of the women are taking baskets of food to the menfolk, what're planting. It was said that yesterday, your da had his shirt off, and a fine sight he was said to be, too! My eyes are too old for such sights, but if you're looking for the women, the planting fields is where you'll find them."

Grace and Edward didn't understand why the sight of their father without his shirt would draw anyone. But they figured, if the women from the village were carrying food baskets, their begging was bound to yield something good to eat!

"Come on, Edward," Grace decided. "That's where we'll go!"

"Goodbye," Edward said to the old woman. "And thank you for the milk."

"Bless you, your manners match your wee lovely face!"

Once they were gone, Bertha had to face it. She really didn't feel well, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Edward and Grace took turns riding home on their father's back, after he'd discovered them "begging" among the women who had gathered to watch him planting.

Instead of being angry to find his children misbehaving by dirtying themselves and begging from the Locksley women, Robin had laughed out loud. And after completing the planting and arriving home to their manor, he suggested they all three find the children's sister and mother, and beg from them.

Ellen and Marian were outdoors weeding the side garden, and the instant the cat spied them, he leaped from Grace's arms and dashed to the protectiveness of Marian's skirts.

"Poor Moonlight," Marian cooed, while Ellen laughed. "Have they dressed you up again?"

"Alms, alms!" Grace demanded, wearing her most pathetic look.

"Arms, arms!" Edward added, causing Ellen to giggle harder.

"Well," Marian said, rising and wiping her hands on her apron, "I might be able to find something for two such lovely beggars. But as for the scraggly fellow the cat dragged home..."

Before she could finish, Robin seized her around her waist and begged, "I beg one kiss, and I'll be satisfied."

"Only one?"

"Well, I'll be sure to make it a good one."

"Here, Daddy," Ellen joked, holding up the cat. "Kiss Moonlight."

"No, thank you! I make it a policy never to kiss anyone wearing as many whiskers as I've got."

"You'd better make it a policy not to kiss anyone else at all!" Marian teased, before flowing into his arms and enjoying his lips.

His mouth tasted salty, but Marian had no complaints, not minding at all that Robin had sweated all day in the planting fields. But he was conscious of how much he needed a bath, especially because he found his wife so clean and sweet smelling.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, when the kiss ended. "I should have waited."

She loved it that he hadn't been able to wait, that their love burned as brightly as ever. "We need to get cleaned up for supper," she reminded him, still in his embrace.

Reluctantly, he yielded to her good sense, and let her go. While Ellen undressed the cat and washed her own hands and face, Marian helped Bridget Thornton scrub the two younger children free of mud. Robin took a hurried bath and appeared shortly at the head of his table to bless the food.

He'd worked up quite an appetite working in the fields, but neither Grace nor Edward ate much of anything.

"It's good, Gracie," Ellen assured her sister. "Try it."

Grace pushed the food back and forth on her plate, but couldn't find the appetite to put any in her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Marian asked, concerned.

"I'm not hungry," Edward complained, unusually fussy for such a sweet natured boy.

"Me, neither. We got lots to eat from the women who were looking at Daddy plant," Grace explained.

"Looking at Daddy?" Marian repeated, confused.

"Kate and some others brought us all food," Robin told his wife.

Marian dismissed that knowledge with a quick roll of her eyes. She was more concerned about her children not eating, for she'd spent much of the day tending the sick in their village, and she worried lest her little ones catch contagion.

"Are you feeling alright, otherwise?" she asked.

"My head hurts," Edward whimpered.

Immediately, Marian pushed back her chair and rose to cradle her son in her arms.

"Robin, he's warm," she mentioned, trying to remain calm.

Robin felt the boy's forehead, then pitched his voice as low and steady as he could, to ease Marian's fears.

Edward wasn't just warm, he was burning up with fever.

"Put him to bed," he advised. "I'll fetch Djaq."

Before leaving, he felt Grace's forehead, too. "You'd better go to bed, too, Apple Blossom," he added, privately telling himself there was no need to worry. "You and your brother had a busy day."

When Grace didn't object but went willingly to bed, Robin knew she was ill.

"How are you, Boo?" Robin asked, before running out the door to find Djaq.

"I'm fine," Ellen answered, worried. "Will Grace and Edward be alright?"

"Of course they will," he replied, feeling better by saying so. "Djaq'll give them some nasty tasting medicine, and they'll be on their feet before you know it."

"I'm glad I won't have to drink it!" Ellen grinned, having complete confidence in her father's words.


	7. Chapter 7

That night was one of the hardest of Robin's life.

His children had been sick before, but never like this. Edward and Grace lay hunched under blankets, their skin burning hot to the touch, their teeth chattering from chills. Both Djaq and Matilda had come and gone, stretched to their limits by tending the growing number of sick in Locksley. It seemed to Robin as if his entire village was under attack by some unknown, deadly assassin.

Thankfully, Ellen slept peacefully alone in Edward's room, unaware of the battle her little sister and brother were fighting.

Marian worked tirelessly by Robin's side, dosing their children with medicine, bathing their small flushed faces and tummies with damp cloths, smoothing back matted hair from burning brows.

Robin kept a kettle boiling over a fire he wouldn't let go out, pitching in used cloths to disinfect them, and supplying Marian with clean ones.

Several of his servants had suddenly fallen ill during the night as well, and though it nearly killed him to leave his children, Robin made the rounds through his house, checking up on every living soul under its sheltering roof, providing whatever aid he could to ease their suffering. And although he knew Marian was exhausted, he was relieved and grateful when she refused to leave their children.

His own head was beginning to throb, fierce pain taking hold behind his burning eyelids, squeezing his skull tighter and tighter, showing no mercy as he stumbled up and down his staircase. He barely knew who Tuck was, when the holy friar knocked on his door, bringing an offer of prayers and a censer swinging on an iron chain.

Feverish, Robin felt himself under a spell, watching blue smoke pour from Tuck's swinging censor while listening to the friar's voice intone Latin blessings, entreating the Almighty to guard the well and spare the sick.

When the thick incense made his children sputter and cough, Robin kindly told Tuck to take his censor outdoors, and circle his house, then do the same to every house in his village.

Fully aware that Robin scorned superstition, Marian looked at him inquiringly, but turned quickly away when Grace began to vomit.

Together, her parents cleaned Grace up as best as they could, Robin changing the bedclothes through the foggy haze of fever, while Marian, disregarding her own weakening state, washed and redressed her whimpering daughter in a freshly laundered nightdress.

"It's alright, Precious," Marian said, forcing out words meant to comfort from a throat beginning to burn with fire.

"Is there water to drink?" she asked her husband, only now realizing how her little ones' throats must be aching.

With an effort, Robin lifted his eyes to her face. What he saw there made him catch his breath.

Marian, his incredibly beautiful wife, looked unusually pale and haggard, her lovely eyes sunken, circled by dark shadows.

But worst of all, a red pustule, the size of a thumbprint, stood out on Marian's cheek, another on her forehead.

Robin couldn't speak. He stood transfixed, staring groggily into his wife's face.

"Water," Marian begged, helpless to stand and get it herself.

Somehow, her plea registered on the sick man. Moving as if he were pushing his way upstream through a wall of rushing water, Robin found a bowl of cool clear liquid for her to drink. Shakily lifting it to hold for her, he barely noticed the red spots erupting on his hands.


	8. Chapter 8

_Deeper, deeper. Keep digging deeper. Push the shovel down into the earth, scoop, lift, and fling aside the dirt. Deeper, always deeper. The graves must be deep enough to protect the dead from scavenging animals, and to protect the living from contagion._

Weak and foggy headed, Robin pushed through his pain and did his duty, digging graves to bury the dead in his village.

This disease that was attacking them all, men, women, and children, this pox, was an enemy he could not fight with cleverness, nor skill at arms. Resolve seemed to be the only weapon he had, and his was strong, even when everything else about him had grown weak.

Marian could only stare at him through overly bright feverish eyes, too weak to leave her sick children's bedsides, almost too weak to lift her head. For now, all three children were ill, yet only Ellen wore the pustules speckling her parents' bodies.

None of the dead were pock marked, Robin noted. And so, he watched and prayed for pustules to erupt on his two younger children, as if to expel the poison from within. But so far, none had.

But, thank God, they still lived! This disease took the young and the old, sparing those strong enough to beat it. Benedict, the first man known to have suffered its debilitating scourges, seemed to be recovering, his body a mass of red sores oozing pus. Old Bertha, the widow who had recently entertained Grace and Edward, lay rotting under the ground.

Flies swarmed around the pitifully small bodies Robin was burying, bodies never to grow to adulthood. Robin's throat seemed choked with sand, parched and sore. He couldn't speak, even if he had the strength to utter a voiced prayer. He could barely stand. Yet he pressed on, digging deeper, ever deeper. Doing the only thing he could right now, to care for the people of Locksley.

...

When he'd finished his sad task, he was met at his door by his manservant Thomas.

"Master Robin," Thomas wept, not even bothering to blink back his tears.

"Not Marian?" Robin cried. "Not my children!"

"No, Master. It's Thornton. He's gone."

Shutting his eyes against the truth, Robin felt himself a lad of ten again, hearing the news of his father's death, and being wrapped in the comforting arms of his manor's reeve and stewart.

Thornton, faithful Thornton had been a second father to him. And now, he was gone.

"I'll bury him on the hillside, beside my parents," Robin decided.

"No, master. He wouldn't like that. He always strove to uphold ceremony, and anyway, he'd like to be buried beside his wife, in the churchyard."

"His wife, yes. I'd forgotten. How is Bridget?"

Thornton's blond daughter was Ellen, Grace, and Edward's nurse. When Robin and she had been children, they'd played Hunt the Fox together, along with Much and the other children of the village.

"Where's Much?" Robin suddenly asked.

"Lord Bonchurch is at home, with his family," Thomas answered. "The pox hasn't spread there. Locksley's under quarantine, so no one, not even Much, can come here. And Bridget...well, she's sick."

"God help her," Robin muttered, his head pounding.

"Master, we must bury Thornton. I'll help you."

"Let me see my wife and children first," Robin croaked, "and then we can bury the dead."

Every step up the staircase was a struggle, but with Thomas helping him, Robin somehow climbed his way to the top.

"Master?"

Thomas panicked, thinking Lord Locksley might drop down dead any moment, from the way he was pushing himself. He especially feared for him now, realizing the fever had clouded his mind.

For Robin had stopped at the top of the stairs, and was staring into space, his mouth set in a taut, angry line.

"Get out of my house!" he croaked, his shout a hoarse whisper. "Damn you, Gisbourne, get out!"


	9. Chapter 9

Will Scarlet, ignoring his symptoms of a mild case of the pox, wished it were as easy to block out his feelings.

He was thankful his wife and children had somehow escaped the ravages of the disease tearing like wildfire through Locksley. But tragically, his work confirmed not everyone was so lucky.

Djaq had wearily returned from another round of tending the sick in the village, her eyes blinking back tears. On tiptoe, she had haltingly whispered instructions into Will's ear, and without speaking, he grimly set about to complete his task.

It seemed like only yesterday, he was carving a wooden cradle for Robin and Marian's baby, and now..._N__o. Don't think. Smooth the wood. Make another sleeping place, that's all it is. Just another cradle for tiny Edward to rest his head._

Ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks, Will Scarlet finished the heartbreakingly small coffin, to be ready when Edward of Locksley needed it. For according to Djaq, Robin and Marian's only surviving son would not last the night.

...

Marian, on the mend from her case of the pox, had an uneasy feeling while keeping watch at her children's bedsides. Something about Djaq's face when she'd been examining Edward had disquieted her.

If only she had asked outright. What was it Djaq had once told her? "Never lie to a dying man?" No! Edward was not dying! If anything, he looked better than he had in days. He alone, of her three children, had been spared the oozing pustules, now itching, as they scabbed over.

Nevertheless, Marian couldn't shake the sense of forboding hovering over her, as she gazed into the sleeping faces of her children.

"Mama?"

Marian was startled, for she hadn't realized Edward was awake. Smoothing the sweep of bangs back from his forehead, she tenderly asked, "What is it, sweet boy?"

"I had a funny dream."

"About dragons again?"

"No. It wasn't scary; it was nice. There was a man, who said he loved you. He had my same name!"

"Really?"

Marian watched as Edward, too weak to continue, closed his eyes again.

Fighting back tears, she began singing his favorite lullaby in the softest of whispers:

"Lullaby, my darling,  
My dear son, my sweeting.  
Lullaby to send you softly to sleep.  
Stars shall watch o'er you  
And angels shall guide you  
To dreamland, my little one  
So sleep, gently, sleep."

Watching the tender moment between mother and child from the doorway, Robin quietly entered the room and approached his wife, as soon as she'd finished her lullaby.

"I'll take over," he offered. "Get some rest, my love."

Marian shook her head, but scooted over to make room for him beside her.

"He's getting better, too, like the girls, don't you think so?" she asked, hopefully. "He was talking with me, just a moment ago. Now, if we could only get him to take some broth."

Robin wanted to believe their youngest child was recovering every bit as badly as Marian did, but until the boy broke out in sores, he knew he was still in danger. Still, Robin had never been one to give up, and his optimistic, hopeful spirit willed their son to be alright.

He looked lovingly at his wife, so tired, but so beautiful in her concern for their children. Her hair, usually so luxuriant, hung dull and limp, her eyes were sunken, her face pale and speckled with crusted over pox.

Marian tore her eyes away from her children, to gaze back into the face of the man she loved. His eyes looked haunted, yet warm and loving, too. Lifting her hand, she gently ran her fingertips over his pock marked face, loving him more at that moment perhaps than ever before.

When they heard Edward give a gasping breath, so different from a healthy childish snore, fear gripped their hearts.

Edward seemed to be choking on air. Robin slid an arm behind his shoulders and sat him up, while Marian watched helplessly by.

"Breathe, son," Robin pleaded. "Come on, Edward! Breathe!"

"Please, Lord," Marian desperately prayed out loud. "Please, don't take my baby. Please. Please! Not now! Not yet!"

Robin joined her entreaties, between coaxing on their son. "Spare him, Lord," he begged, and then, "Breathe, son!"

But Edward hadn't the strength to fight any longer. Gasping and gurgling for air, his little body went limp in Robin's arms, while Marian could do nothing but watch, utterly helpless.

Neither parent cried, being too stunned and disbelieving to accept the harsh reality. But their spoken prayers had awakened their daughters. Ellen sobbed uncontrollablly, when she realized what had happened. Marian grasped her in her arms, for Robin couldn't seem to let go of their son.

Six-year-old Grace couldn't understand why Ellen was crying, and why Edward wouldn't wake up.

"He's...he's an angel now, Precious," Marian explained, tears beginning to flow as the truth set in.

"Then he really can fly!" Grace exclaimed, happily. "Don't cry, Mama. Don't cry, Ellie. Edward and me love to fly! Right, Daddy?"

Still holding the body of his son in one arm, Robin gathered Grace into his other one, pressing her small, hopeful face against his chest, holding her close because he loved her so much, and because he didn't want her to see him cry.

THE END


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